


The Line Too Far

by Sarunamii



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Kidnapped Ron Weasley, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:34:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24991618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarunamii/pseuds/Sarunamii
Summary: When Ron Weasley, best friend to the "boy who lived", goes missing from Hogwarts just before winter break, Draco Malfoy couldn't care less.  But then he makes a terrifying discovery...
Relationships: Lucius Malfoy/Ron Weasley
Comments: 4
Kudos: 77
Collections: Bottom Ron Weasley





	1. Missing from Hogwarts

The sound of anxious voices increased across the great hall and Draco glanced over towards the Gryffindor table. As usual, there was a commotion of some sort or another going on around that self-righteous prat Potter and his stupid fan club. He probably broke a nail or something equally as trivial. 

A spelled paper bird dipped in flight and struggled to remain in the air as the owner was most likely distracted by the noises also. It soared smoothly eight feet up in the air and then jerked and wavered falling a short distance before smoothing back out into a graceful glide. An unexpected lobbed projectile from below knocked the magical paper bird from its flowing path and it tumbled down to the table below.

Rolling his eyes at the commotion, the Slytherin turned back toward some miserable attempt at humorous wit from one of his own idiotic housemates. He snorted half-heartedly at the joke and turned his attention back to the letter his mother had sent. She always worried too much about him. Despite his family’s strong ties and existing alliances with Voldermort and his devoted Death Eaters, Narcissa had recently dropped several not-so-subtle hints that his future associations were his choices to make – just because his father was a Death Eater didn’t mean he had to be. She needed to be more careful, too many such hints and even his father would start to catch them, and he would not be happy at all to hear them. As far as Lucius was concerned, Draco would join the family as a Death Eater as soon as he became of age, and that was that. He had to follow the noble Malfoy family tradition, of course.

Despite his father’s strong faith and loyalty in the dark Lord and Draco’s own absolute agreement with many of Voldermort’s beliefs and teachings, Draco didn’t see why the old wizard was any more fit to rule than any of the other past-his-prime wizards currently running around the ministry of magic. In fact, he had had his chance to take over and rule, and he had failed spectacularly when Draco was but an infant – thwarted by, of all things, a little baby, not even out of diapers at the time.

As far as Draco was concerned, Harry still wasn’t that impressive of a wizard, and already he and his little band of troublemakers had repeatedly sabotaged Voldermort’s latest efforts to return to power. At this rate, by the time he gained dominion over the wizarding world it would be time for the older wizard to retire. It was time to let the next generation step up. It was clearly time for a younger, stronger wizard to take charge and lead them into a new era of magical greatness.

Brushing off such political wonderings, Draco gazed back down to the letter from his mother. His eyes followed the elegant script to look further down to reread the riddle that his mother had included for him to solve. “Always wax, yet always wane; I melt, succumbed to the flame. Lighting darkness, with fate unblest, I soon devolve to shapeless mess.” It was a tradition they kept between them, ever since he was a small child. They would trade riddle after riddle, always trying to stump the other. Draco was determined to have an answer for her by the time she met him at the train platform that afternoon.

A shouted exclamation distracted Draco from his own thoughts once more. Whatever the drama was that was happening at the Gryffindor table, it was rapidly increasing in even more irritating volume than normal. The numerous Weasley blood traitors were growing frantic while that insufferable know-it-all mudblood and Potter seemed to be attempting to stay calm and reasonable, while vainly trying to sooth the others around them into a calmer state of mind also. It was a losing battle.

Not that Draco was paying any attention at all to them, of course, but when he glanced over towards the ruckus, he did notice that, even as McGonagall strode over to see to her house table, there did seem to be one annoying Weasley missing from their vast numbers. Ron, Potter’s best friend, and frequent partner in crime, was nowhere in sight. That was most definitely unusual. It was extremely rare not to see the red-headed git beside either Potter or Granger – they were practically glued to each other’s sides. Maybe they had a fight or something or finally learned how to have their own personalities.

Draco shrugged unconcerned. Bad luck for them, and right before the holiday break too. The idiot had probably gone off and gotten himself lost or something stupid like that. The blond boy smirked to himself. Maybe one of Hagrid’s silly pets swallowed him whole. If, indeed, one of his “darling” critters had harmed a student, then even Dumbledore would be forced to get rid of that giant oaf for good. Two birds with one stone.

The Hogwarts train arrival was announced and the whole hall filled with movement as crowds from every table gathered their things and rose to board the train. Draco folded his letter and tucked it safely into the folds of his robe as he pushed himself up from the table. Time to head home for the holidays.

He could see the Weasleys holding back with Potter and Granger as the rest of the students drained out of the great hall, eagerly heading towards the train to take them home for the winter break. It wasn’t unusual for Potter to stay for breaks, but Granger and the Weasleys quite often returned to their own homes for the breaks. Rumor had it that the “savior” of the wizarding world lived with some muggle relatives from his mother’s family when he wasn’t at school. If that was true, then of course he would stay at Hogwarts for the holidays. After all, who would want to return there to the non-magical world after seeing the obvious superiority of the wizarding world firsthand?

Brushing off any lingering curiosity, Draco left the great hall with the other students to return to his own lush home. While he did love to irritate the “golden trio” every chance he got, Draco had better things to do then to listen to whatever their latest cause for complaint was this time. He turned his mind to the riddle his mother had sent him, focusing on the words. He would definitely have that answer soon.


	2. Midnight Wanderings

He didn’t see much of his father that break, no doubt busy with some Death Eater business of some sort or another and Narcissa didn’t seem to be put out by his frequent absences – they were probably fighting again. And so, Draco enjoyed the quality time with his mother and pushed aside any lingering disappointment he felt at his father’s aloof indifference towards him. It wasn’t as if he needed his father’s approval or attention anyway. He would do just fine without it as he always had. Draco was not a sniveling little girl that needed to be told he was special in order to have any self-worth – he already knew that he was special. He was a Malfoy, after all.

Their mansion was old and therefore saw its fair share of ghosts and specters, like any other respectable wizarding family estate, especially late at night, so any faint screams Draco heard during nights of his break never troubled his sleep in the slightest. If ever awoken, he would simply roll over and go back to sleep. It was never anything serious to worry about – ghosts seemed to be especially fond of screaming and screeching at odd nighttime hours when the rest of the household were sleeping.

So, it came as quite a shock when, almost a week into the holidays, the young Malfoy, on his way down to the kitchen in search of a glass of water late one night, walked in on his disturbingly naked father coming out of the spare bedroom just down the hall from his parents’ own chambers. Lucius had left the door to the room cracked open as he stepped out of it into the dark hallway – presumably to retrieve something for himself or to return to his own room for the night. Just barely visible through the open door – the shock of red hair and pale white skin marked with bright red stripes stretched out of the luxurious bed – had Draco freezing in his steps. 

“Father – ?” Draco’s words stumbled to a stunned halt. What was going on? If it had not been for the shock, the younger Malfoy would have stayed silent and attempted to observe his father’s strange actions while the other remained blissfully unaware of his presence. Unfortunately, his own shocked reaction blew his cover and the older man turned sharp eyes towards Draco.

“Go back to bed, Draco,” his father ordered, quickly summoning a silky robe to cover his nakedness as he reached behind him to pull the door shut to the room behind him. As if nothing unusual had happened, Lucius slipped on the robe and tied the strings closed in the front. He never even turned to glance behind himself into the room, but kept his gaze locked on to that of his son.

Still staring in aghast shock, Draco ignored the stern order and struggled to pick his bottom jaw up off the floor, “Is that – Ronald Weasley – naked on the guest bed?”

A soft sob shuddered from the prone form just before the door clicked shut completely blocking the red headed boy from sight. “Go back to bed,” Lucius firmly reiterated his previous order, aggravation becoming clear in his authoritative voice. The older man glowered peevishly down at his only son and heir trying to intimidate him into immediate obedience. 

Despite what his schoolmates might think or say, Draco was no idiot. With some effort, he pulled himself together – stuffing the shock way down deep until he could sufficiently function reasonably once more. Nodding to his father, Draco turned away and headed back to his own bed – forgoing his own previously desired drink of water. There was nothing to be gained from a standoff with the head of the Malfoy family in the middle of the night. Lucius was an experienced and skilled wizard that the younger man knew he would be no match against, and so Draco let the matter drop – at least for the moment.

But Draco knew he couldn’t leave things as they were. Stepping back into his room, Draco seethed with an ice-cold rage. This could not stand unanswered for. Lucius would pay for this! The only question was how. The younger Malfoy was no match for his father, and there was no doubt who would win in a fight between the two, so he would have to find a way to outsmart the older, more devious man.

As much as he and Weasley didn’t get along, he knew that what his father was doing was wrong. A grown man molesting a fifteen-year-old boy – the same age as his own teenage son – it just wasn’t right at all. And that was not even to mention the unfaithfulness to Draco’s own mother. Resentment welled up. How dare he go behind his mother’s back! That filthy perverted, pedophile! Draco ground his teeth in seething anger. He would rescue that ginger git from the good-for-nothing reprobate that called himself a man and return him to his large family of eternally, annoying do-gooders. He – not “saint” Potter nor “know-it-all” Granger – he, Draco Malfoy, would rescue the youngest Weasley boy. He’d show them all. Draco Malfoy was a great wizard deserving all of their respect and gratefulness. Draco would be the one to save the day this time.


	3. Breakfast Revelations

Early the next day Lucius once more excused himself from their manor, after barely pausing for the morning meal. So confident in his son’s obedience to drop the matter, he left without so much as a warning glance in Draco’s general direction. Only then did the Malfoy heir prod his mother for her own thoughts on the matter. They had retreated to the small study with the remainder of their breakfasts instead of trying to eat in the great empty dining hall. “Mother,” he began, “I saw father coming out of the spare bedroom last night.” 

Narcissa sighed, “Your father and I have been separated for some time.” It was obviously a subject she didn’t want to get into with her son, but she was never one to back down from any confrontation – no matter how uncomfortable it made her or how much she did not want to discuss something. You always knew exactly where you with the lady of the house – she made certain of that.

“Why do you stay with him – in this house?”

“For you, Draco,” she answered looking him in the eye. “We both still want what’s best for you, no matter how different our other beliefs and desires are – no matter how much we may not love each other anymore.” She pushed aside the plate she had been eating from leaving more food behind than she had already eaten. 

Tentative relief and hope formed in his gut. If she disagreed with his father on the Dark Lord, then maybe getting Weasley out would be a whole lot easier. “If father were ordered to torture a blood traitor boy here – one my age…what would you do?” 

“Not in my house,” Narcissa replied without hesitation. “There is no need to hurt children in a fight that should be between adults. It’s why I won’t allow your father to take you to any of his Death Eater meetings – not until you are of age and can decide for yourself.”

“Then you don’t know about the Weasley boy tied up in the spare bedroom. We need to get him out and away before father gets back this afternoon.”

Shooting up in outraged, shock his mother shouted out, “What?” She stared at Draco as if he had grown a second head. The table beside her shook from the force of her fierce backward motion. 

“I saw him last night, chained to the bed behind father,” the younger Malfoy confessed, telling his mother about his late run in with Lucius the night before. Her enraged reaction made it clear that she did not approve of her husband’s actions – not in the slightest. More likely than not, he would soon be her ex-husband.

“Pack your trunk, Draco,” Narcissa ordered her wand snapping into her hand, her icy exterior back in place over the fiery rage she had just displayed. Resolved purpose showed on his mother’s face with a grim determination. She turned towards the previously spoken of bedroom summoning a cloak to her as she went. Nothing was going to stand in her way and Draco was glad he had confided in her as he rushed up to his own room to repack the few things he had pulled from his trunk during the break. She was a powerful witch in her own right, and Draco did not doubt that even his father would find her a challenging opponent if it were ever to come that.

A mere five minutes later, after sending a house elf to return his trunk to the school, Draco was back down the stairs. The door of the previously spoken of spare bedroom was open, but Narcissa’s kneeling form blocked the view of the injured body struggling not to flinch violently away from her. With a gentleness she rarely displayed, even to her own beloved son, his mother eased the cloak around the other boy’s shoulders and carefully helped him to his feet. Ronald Weasley limped out into the hallway with his head down and shoulders hunched as he shivered involuntarily, leaning heavily against the Malfoy Matriarch. Despite his recent growth spurt and Narcissa’s slender form, the red-headed Weasley looked small, curled in on himself, against her side. She held out her free hand for her son to grasp and swiftly apparated them away from the dark halls of their home.

So it wasn’t the daring rescue that Draco had vainly hoped to concoct when he had lay awake during the early morning hours after spying the other boy, but it was extremely effective. Narcissa Malfoy was not one to be crossed – not even by her own Death Eater of a husband. If she put her mind to it, she could probably even have the Dark Lord quaking in his boots in fear of her wrath.


	4. Safe In the Burrow

Draco didn’t recognize the long dusty country road lined by farm fields that they appeared on, but the old, shabby cottage had him assuming they must be somewhere near the Weasley’s home. He curled his lip up at their obvious poverty but went ahead of his mother to knock on the shabby door. He would follow her lead and not back down from any unpleasant task that lay before him. If it needed doing and he was the one to do it, Draco would do it without whining and moaning about the task at hand. At least, not too much any way.

The door opened almost before his fist touched it. A short, round woman with red hair to match that of her numerous children sniffled at him. Her eyes were red and cheeks wet from a recent bout of tears, but even as she opened her mouth to question his appearance on her door step she caught sight of the pair making their way painstakingly towards her. “Ron!” Molly Weasley gasped out and barely managed to stop herself from rudely shoving Draco aside in her urgency to reach her own battered son.

The other boy didn’t say anything but sagged into his mother’s embrace with a harsh sob even as the sound of noisy feet stomped down the inside stairs as a mad rush of Weasleys hurried to the scene. Draco didn’t even try to keep track of who was there as they brushed past him towards their damaged younger brother. Concerned chaos whirled around them as Ron was enveloped into his family’s boisterous presence. Molly carefully helped her youngest son into the house past his visibly upset siblings.

“Won’t you come in?” Mr. Weasley invited the pair of Malfoys in from just inside the door, startling the blond boy out of his reverie. He hadn’t expected the man to pay any further attention to them now that his missing child was back among the fold. The fact that he had the presence of mind to take any notice his visitors was impressive – not that anyone should ever make the mistake of dismissing any of the Malfoys from their minds, of course. At least the Weasley Patriarch knew how to display common hospitality.

Looking to his mother, Draco nodded his acceptance and followed the crowd into the humble home, slightly surprised not to see Potter or Granger mixed in among the horde. It was only a sea of red hair with the two blonds standing blatantly out. 

Narcissa was right behind him, outwardly calm and collected, but still tense and ready for action. “You should up your protective wards,” she advised the worried father, “specifically to keep Lucius out. He will not be pleased to return to an empty home.”

“Quite right you are,” Arthur agreed and called his two oldest sons out to help him as Molly disappeared into the downstairs bedroom with her youngest son held up between her and another of her red-headed sons. The only girl out of the bunch, Ginny, invited their unexpected guests into the living room, offering tea while the normally mischief-making twins dashed away to send multiple owls out – no doubt informing everyone they knew of Ron’s recent return to their overcrowded home. 

Actively refraining from making any rude comments, Draco found himself at a remarkable loss for words. Consequently, the conversation quickly ran dry once Ginny had placed a cup of tea in each of their hands. While the younger girl was obviously worried for her brother, constantly shooting looks towards the closed bedroom door, Narcissa seemed content to wait for the others’ return in a lofty silence – as if she was above the emotions of worry or anxiousness. For Draco, however, it was a struggle not to idly fidget. He had not yet achieved his mother’s level of cool disinterest. Consequently, the young Slytherin was almost relieved when the older Weasley men plodded back into the house after adding multiple layers of new defensive spells around their humble home.

Arthur led a newly arrived mediwitch in straight through to the closed bedroom door with a quick, “right this way,” as the two older brothers detoured into the living room. Bill and Charlie sat beside their sister shooting their own anxious glances towards the reclosed door.

“Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy. Our family can’t thank you enough for bringing Ron back to us,” Bill broke the silence with his earnest gratitude after a few minutes of silence.

Draco bit his tongue to keep from parroting back something about irresponsible wizarding families that had entirely too many children that he had heard his father remark on way too many times to count. While his father had a point that less children would be easier to keep track of, there was something about the worry these siblings were showing for their youngest brother that left the youngest Malfoy jealous. Part of him secretly wondered what it would have been like growing up with siblings – any at all.

“It’s Draco, you should thank,” his mother replied evenly, sipping on her tea. “If not for him, I wouldn’t have even known your brother was in the house.”

Bill nodded, “thank you, Draco.”

Daining to indicate his acknowledgement with a nod, Draco let the silence settle back over them. He had done as he had told himself he would do, rescued another pureblood from a disgusting pedophile. He had nothing else to say to these people. The troublesome twins came down the stairs just before Percy let himself out of the bedroom where their parents were still holed up with the mediwitch and their youngest brother. All Weasley eyes turned to their third brother expectantly waiting for an update.

“He’ll be alright,” Percy assured quietly, his words not quite matching his dejected expression.

The fireplace had a burst of green as the bushy haired Granger tumbled out. “Ron?” she asked desperately, eyes darting around the room as if looking for some sign of the other Gryffindor boy in every darkened corner. Her parents weren’t far behind with Professor McGonagall just after them. Both muggles had queasy expressions from travelling through the unfamiliar floo network, but stoically kept their composure and quickly moved out of the way to make room for other pending arrivals that were sure to follow and did constantly throughout the rest of the day.  
“The mediwitch is still with him,” Ginny told the other girl as Professor McGonagall calmly greeted the pair of Malfoys. Further conversation was done in hushed, worried voices as if they were in a library or attending some other solemn affair or event, but there was an air of relief and hope that they all clung to desperately now that the missing Weasley was once more under their shabby roof.

It was nearly early afternoon before Molly and Arthur emerged from their bedroom, following the mediwitch out as she listed off instructions for them to follow with their injured son. The crowd had steadily grown in the proceeding hours as more and more witches and wizards arrived, either by floo or a knock on the door, to come check on the youngest Weasley boy. 

Harry for his part had given Draco a surprised searching look before settling down to wait beside Hermione. Ex-professor Lupin smiled kindly at the Slytherin and greeted his mother despite the disdain she made sure he was aware of. Hagrid was taking up more space than he had any reason to, while two Aurors watched the group from one corner and a black dog seemed to strategically place itself on the opposite side of the room as the Aurors. It seemed as if everyone had come to check up on Weasley, even Dumbledore had squeezed himself into the jam-packed living room. With such a mashed-up crowd building, it was surprising how quickly the other Weasley children made it across the room without tripping over or stepping on anyone as soon as that bedroom door opened. Their hopeful eyes latched on to their parents wanting reassurance that their brother would be alright.

“Just two at a time,” Molly instructed looking old in that moment, leading Ginny and Bill in first. Meanwhile, Arthur escorted the Aurors and Dumbledore to the dining room for a private conversation with a glance to Narcissa asking if she and Draco would join them. At last the waiting seemed to be over.

In the dining room, Draco sighed, relieved to be out of the chaos of the other room, but now apart from everyone else, he had to recount the events of the previous night to the Aurors, Dumbledore, and, worst of all, to Weasley’s father. Shielding himself in his normal arrogant airs, the teen chose to ignore the uncomfortableness of the situation and focused on the lead Auror who was asking all the questions. If they found his attitude irritating or disrespectful none of the adults let on to it – they just absorbed his words with rapt attention. Narcissa was silent beside him, letting Draco have his say before she added her own once he was done speaking. It almost surprised him to hear the rage in the voice of his normally so calm and collected mother, but his father had crossed a line neither one of them had believed he would have ever even thought of crossing. One thing was certain, from here on out, nothing would ever be the same again.

“Lucius has a lot of powerful connections,” Arthur noted at the end of the interview turning his attention to Narcissa. “Do you have somewhere safe for you and Draco to stay?”

“Not immediately,” she conceded reluctantly. “Draco will, of course, return to Hogwarts. While he is there, I will get everything in order.” Regarding to her son, Narcissa spoke firmly, “Beware of your friends, Draco, many of them come from overzealous families still loyal to the Dark Lord. They may see this opposition to your father as an act against the Dark Lord.”

Dumbledore nodded sagely, “Wise words, Narcissa. We will, of course, do everything to keep Hogwarts safe for all of our students, but as the current unfortunate situation with young Mr. Weasley has shown, there are some dangers we cannot plan for. Any determined scoundrel can find a way around even our strongest safeguards. One must always be on his guard in such a troubling time as now.”

Indicating his understanding and acceptance of both the headmaster’s and his mother’s words, Draco found himself fretting about his future life in Slytherin. How could he hope to get any rest in his own dorm once they learned that he had helped a Weasley? He would not be so cowardly as to request a private room, but still, how safe would he be in the dorms if the other Slytherins saw him as a blood traitor? It was troubling, to say the least.


	5. Epilogue

Draco found himself returning to Hogwarts to finish out the holidays there before the sun had even set that day. Professor Snape greeted him where he arrived by floo powder and informed him that his trunk had already been taken to his dorm. 

Predictably, Granger, Potter, and the other Weasleys did not return to school until the end of the holidays. Less expected was the fact that Ron was with them, but decidedly more subdued than he had ever been previously. His face was now decorated with a new scar slashed from his hairline on the left side of his face down across his forehead just missing his right eye. Before the terrible incident, Draco may have made some snide comment about the youngest Weasley trying to imitate the “boy who lived,” but instead he kept that callous jeer to himself and didn’t even encourage Crabb or Goyle to come up with any immature insults of their own.

They hadn’t even been back a full day when the ginger boy somewhat hesitantly approached Draco with an ever-watchful older brother standing guard only a few feet away. It seemed as though none of his family were willing to completely let Ron out of their sight anytime soon. 

“Thanks, Draco,” Ron forced his shoulders straight and met the blond boy’s eyes determinedly. The Weasley was not going to allow this recent ordeal to break him. There was a strength of will in the other’s eyes that Draco recognized and could respect wholeheartedly. They might never be friends, but they could at least share a mutual respect for one another. The future was uncertain, but one thing Draco Malfoy knew, from that point onward – friend or not – he could always count on Ronald Weasley to have his back.

“You’re welcome.”


End file.
